


Howling of Dogs

by CatHeights



Series: No Emerald City [4]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The howling of dogs was supposed to be a harbinger of death. And yeah, that was just a superstition, but Ryan was superstitious. With the shitload of death all around them, how could you know whether or not the howls were a warning that death was about to show up on your doorstep? How could you know when some bastard Nazi was going to take a shot at your lover?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howling of Dogs

"Cancer patients look better than Mukada. I know I did. He needs to get some damn sleep." Ryan shook his head as he stared at the Father who was slumped in a chair by Keller's bedside with Beecher curled up in a chair across from him.

"I know, man, but he thinks he's helping Beecher by staying." Alvarez sighed. "He still feels guilty about killing Schillinger. I think he's trying to compensate or something."

"He shouldn't feel guilty. Fucking hero in my book." Ryan meant every word. There were nights he wouldn't talk about where he dreamed of Miguel on his knees, a bullet piercing his skull. He woke from these dreams, heart racing, and instinct making him turn to feel the warmth of Miguel beside him and the constant sound of his breathing. Until his heart calmed down, he kept thanking God that Mukada had been there. "Coddling Beecher ain't helping no one. He wants to sit there and starve, let him."

Ryan didn't get Beecher. He was incredibly smart and tough, but he was also a drama queen. Keller's fever had gone down, and he was lucid more often, so it seemed like he was going to live up to his mantra of, "I ain't going down." So ya'd think Beecher would be relieved, maybe thankful that he and Alvarez had done everything they could to make sure Keller survived, you know the man he supposedly loved.

Alvarez pushed away from the wall they'd both been leaning against and started walking into their makeshift infirmary. "Enough."

"Wait." Ryan grabbed Alvarez's arm to stop him. "What are you gonna do?"

"Stop the Beecher coddling." Alvarez squeezed Ryan's hand and then pulled free of his grasp. "Relax, man. I've got it."

"This should be good." Ryan moved so that he was leaning inside the room's entryway.

Alvarez walked over and crouched down in front of Mukada's chair. He spoke so softly that Ryan couldn't make out what he was saying. The priest shook his head, and Ryan didn't need to hear anything to know Mukada had just claimed he was fine, which was bullshit. Alvarez placed his hand on Mukada's knee, and this time when he spoke it was loud enough for Ryan to hear.

"Come on, trust me, I'll take care of things here. And if the situation was the other way round, you'd be telling me, 'Miguel, you're not helping anyone by forgoing sleep' or some shit like that."

Mukada smiled at Alvarez's impersonation of him. "You know me well, and of course you're right. I could do with a few hours of sleep."

"There you go." Alvarez smiled and stood.

With a sigh and a stretch, Mukada stood as well, and Alvarez put a hand to his back and guided him to the door. Ryan figured Miguel wasn't taking any chances on the priest changing his mind.

"Hey, get some sleep, Father," Ryan said when they got over to him.

"I will. Thank you, Ryan. And remember, please just call me Ray."

"Uh, yeah, sorry." No way was it ever going to feel right to him to call the priest by his first name.

"If anything changes, you wake me. Or," Mukada looked toward Beecher, "if Tobias asks for me, come get me, ok?"

"You got it. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Miguel."

Ryan and Miguel stood there silently until Mukada was out of sight. Then, Ryan asked softly, "So, now what?"

Alvarez smiled. "Now the Beecher coddling stops." He walked toward Beecher who didn't even look up at his approach. Alvarez grabbed Beecher's arm and pushed him backward, forcing his head up and then he punched him in the jaw. It wasn't a knock out blow, but it was solid enough punch to whip Beecher's head to the side.

_Holy shit!_ Ryan had lost track of the number of times Miguel had stopped him from beating the crap out of Beecher, and now he goes and decks him. Obviously it ain't like he couldn't understand wanting to hit the asshole, but why now?

"Is there a problem, Alvarez?"

While Beecher slowly came to his feet and his body language showed no sign of him readying for a fight, the low, deadly tone to his voice made Ryan tense. His gaze slid to Keller. The man had been out of it more often than not, but if he came to right now this would get ugly real fast. Not exactly the best place to pick a fight, but no matter how insane this seemed, he'd have Miguel's back.

As if he'd decided to go with the theme of insane behavior, Miguel smiled and walked over to the seat Mukada had vacated. He sat down, body in a lazy sprawl. "Sorry, man, had to be sure you were still in there. Ain't heard a peep from you, ain't seen you eat. Thought you'd been taken over by body snatchers." He shrugged. "Can't be too careful these days, you know, strange things happen."

Ryan smirked. What was Miguel up to? Beecher didn't look nearly as amused as he sat back down muttering.

The smile left Alvarez's face, and he leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "I just don't get you, man."

"Am I supposed to care that you don't 'get' me?" Beecher crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. There was a bright red mark on the side of his chin, but he showed no sign that it bothered him.

"Nah, but I thought you cared about Keller, but I guess I was wrong 'bout that. It's all 'bout you, isn't it?"

"You don't get me. Why don't we leave it at that?"

"The way I see it...."

"I don't want to hear about how you see it."

Beecher's nasty tone made Ryan edgy. He took a few steps into the room, but Miguel looked at him and shook his head. It was obvious he was being asked to stay where he was. He halted his approach, but he didn't step back. Ryan had learned a long time ago that Beecher in certain moods should be handled with caution.

"Too bad." Miguel sat back, sprawling again. "Because I feel like telling you. You can leave if you don't feel like listening."

Beecher huffed and looked away.

His attitude didn't deter Miguel. "The way I see it is you're really lucky. Both you and I are really lucky."

"I'd hate to see what you consider unlucky."

"You know, Keller's had your back even before we escaped. When your daughter turned...."

"Don't you talk about her!" Beecher snarled, looking far too much like a rabid dog for Ryan's liking.

Miguel ignored him and kept talking. "He pestered them to let him see you in solitary, and then he was with you every day after that. When Said attacked you, he carried you out of there, and spent every day caring for you, worrying over you."

"Thank you for the trip down memory lane, but I lived through it too."

"I'm not so sure you did, man, because if you did, you wouldn't be behaving like this. The whole world has gone to shit. Everything is lost, but you and me, we still have people who care about us. Ain't a lot of people who can say that."

That comment made Beecher look Miguel's way. "Are you in love with O'Reily, Alvarez?"

"Yes," Miguel said without pause.

"You two don't always show it."

"Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeves."

Beecher looked up and his sharp gaze found Ryan's, and as Ryan met the stare, he realized that sometimes he really didn't like Beecher.

"Does he love you?"

Again Miguel's response was immediate. "Yes."

Beecher looked down at his knees. "Well, goody for you."

"Shit, you do know that love ain't supposed to be so destructive, right?"

"Well," Beecher gave a creepy laugh. "That's the way Keller and I go on this merry-go-round." He started to sing. "Oh, the Merry-Go-Round broke down, and it made the darndest sound."

Fucking nursery rhymes again. Ryan really wanted to deck Beecher. It wasn't fair that Alvarez had gotten to take a swipe at him.

Miguel looked less than impressed with Beecher's musical interlude. "You ever think it might be time to change how you two do things?" He pointed to Keller. "He's as loco as you, but he cares and he's lucky as far as surviving shit that would take another man down."

"Well someday, even his luck will run out, just like sand in an hourglass."

Alvarez leaned forward and when he spoke his voice was gentle. "And when, if, that happens, you think behaving like this will make it hurt less?"

Ryan almost snorted. Damn if Miguel didn't sound just like Mukada.

"Ah, I get it, Alvarez." Beecher gave another crazy laugh. "You've decided in this new world order, you want to be Freud. No, I take that back. You want to be Sister Pete. You're such good friends with Mukada." He looks up at Ryan. "You guys having three ways? How does the good Father fuck?"

Now Miguel looked pissed. "Don't you talk shit about Father Mukada. Not after all he's done for you. Trying to look after you and Keller until he's past the point of exhaustion."

Beecher fell silent and at least looked guilty about what he said. After a few minutes, he waved a hand at Keller. "He should have told us he was hurt."

"Yeah, you ain't gonna get no argument from me there. But maybe if he hadn't felt like he was responsible for your mental well being, he would have been more honest." Miguel paused and his expression hardened. "This group is only as strong as its weakest link. You and Keller have got to get your act together. And you gotta believe me that I want that scenario the most because it's the best for both of you. But if you can't, the rest of us are gonna have to think about what's best for the group. You get what I'm saying?"

By the shocked looked on Beecher's face, Ryan knew he got Miguel's threat loud and clear. Then his expression changed to frightened, and Ryan realized despite how fucking smart Beecher could be, he also was goddamn clueless. While Keller had gotten it all along, this moment was obviously the first time it had occurred to Beecher that the others might leave him and Keller behind.

When Beecher nodded, Alvarez stood. "So you want something to eat? I find eating improves your mood, you know?"

"Yeah, food would be good. Thanks." Beecher looked up at Alvarez. "For everything."

"No problem."

As Miguel walked toward him, Ryan grinned, and then when he was close enough whispered. "Nice work. I think you may have gotten through to whatever part of him is still goddamn sane."

Alvarez shrugged. "Let's see if it sticks. I'm gonna go get him some food. At least I'll be able to tell the Father when he comes back Beecher ate something. Be right back."

Ryan looked over at Beecher and saw him take one of Keller's hands in his own. It struck him that despite all the time Beecher had been spending at Keller's bedside, this was the first time he'd seen Beecher touch Keller.

Huh. It sure looked like Miguel had had quite the impact on their nursery rhyme spewing annoyance.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Miguel's mouth was heaven sent—pure glorious pleasure wrapping his cock in wet heat and pressure. Ryan had one hand tangled in the sheet and the other tracing a pattern up and down the warm, damp skin of Miguel's back.

Then suddenly that mouth was gone from his cock. Ryan groaned. He felt hands slide beneath his ass and heard Miguel's chuckle.

"You gotta have a little faith. Have I ever disappointed you? I'm just positioning you better. Trust me. I'm gonna make you feel fantastic."

Once Miguel had him angled on the bed, he resumed his previous actions with gusto. Ryan definitely had no reason for complaint and every reason to be making the sounds of appreciation spilling from his mouth. Miguel never disappointed.

"Fuck." Ryan's voice sounded rough and breathy. At this rate, he wasn't going to last nearly as long as Alvarez had. He closed his eyes and arched his hips.

Miguel started massaging his balls, and the feeling was so good that Ryan saw spots of white appearing in the darkness. "Close." Ryan's warning was unnecessary, because, unlike him, Miguel didn't mind swallowing. However, the warning did mean that Miguel stopped touching his balls, resting his hand instead on Ryan's stomach. The bastard obviously wanted him to last longer. Ryan wasn't sure that was going to be possible, but for Miguel he'd do his best.

One hand twisted further in the sheet, and the other moved to grip Miguel's shoulder, as desire overrode will. Miguel pushed down on Ryan's hips, which had been arching upward of their own volition. The restraint increased his arousal and left him begging. "Please, oh fuck, please."

Miguel answered his prayer and his mouth devoured Ryan's cock.

"Fuck," Ryan yelled and bit down on his lip as he came.

His cock was released just as his dick started to feel sensitive.

"Move over."

It took every ounce of energy he had left, but Ryan did as asked and was rewarded by Miguel curling up beside him and resting his head on Ryan's chest.

All of Ryan's muscles were relaxed, contentment filled him and sleep called. Yet for some reason at that moment, he felt compelled to finally tell Miguel out loud what he felt. "You know I love you, right?"

"You mean you don't keep me around just for my fantastic cock sucking? I had no idea." Miguel laughed and slid off Ryan's chest to lie on the pillow.

Ryan pushed himself up and stared down at Miguel. "I'm being serious. You know, right? What you said to Beecher, you believe it."

"Relax, Ryan. Yeah, I know." Miguel reached up and cupped Ryan's face and drew him down for a quick kiss. "Trust me, we're good. In fact I'd say we're very good." Miguel yawned. "Want to know something else I know, you're going to be an asshole tomorrow if you don't get some sleep."

"Look at you being all wise and shit. You seem to know a lot these days, Alvarez."

"Well, man, look at who I'm with. I'm bound to look brilliant in comparison."

"You're a regular comedian." Ryan smacked Alvarez on the arm before lying back down.

"Yep. Go to sleep." Miguel added softly, "I love you too. 'Night."

Smiling, Ryan yawned and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. He had no idea how long he slept, but what sounded like 50 dogs howling made him bolt upright, suddenly wide awake with his heart pounding. Beside him, Miguel didn't even stir at the horrific sound. The howling happened every night and it seemed that everyone, but him, had simply gotten used to it.

He couldn't help it, the sound spooked him, and it didn't help that there was a full moon tonight. Actually, the light cutting through the darkness made things even more eerie. The howling of dogs was supposed to be a harbinger of death. And yeah, that was just a superstition, but sue him, as he was goddamn superstitious. With the shitload of death all around them, how could you know whether or not the howls were a warning that death was about to show up on your doorstep? How could you know when some bastard Nazi was going to take a shot at your lover?

Chilled, Ryan rubbed his arms and risked a glance down at Miguel, whose breathing was still deep and even. He resisted the urge to touch him. It was damn cold, so he reached for the blanket that had been pushed to the edge of the bed, trying to make as little movement as possible. He didn't want to wake Miguel. One of them should be getting some sleep.

Ryan figured Beecher thought he wasn't as demonstrative with Miguel because he didn't want to be viewed as a fag. But that ain't it at all. It's not like they're in Oz, where both his and Miguel's reps would be affected. Mukada don't care—he just wants Alvarez to be happy. And Beecher and Keller are in no position to throw stones. The reason he was so cautious about showing how much he cared wasn't about anyone else. It was about tempting fate who was a cruel mistress. That bitch had taken every good thing from him in his life, and well he didn't want to tempt her with Miguel, because he was the best thing he had, maybe the best thing he's ever had. Alvarez had gotten him through some tough shit, both out here, and back in Oz.

_Something had been wrong with Cyril for days. Each morning, he looked tired and seemed to have less energy, and then the night before all Hell broke loose, he was woken by Cyril's voice._

_"Ryan? I feel funny."_

_Ryan jumped down from his bunk and sat on the edge of Cyril's. "What's wrong buddy?"_

_"I feel funny."_

_"Yeah, you said that. Funny, how?"_

_"Warm and really strange. I think something's wrong with me." Cyril sounded scared._

_Ryan placed the back of his hand against Cyril's forehead and tried to convince himself that he didn't notice any heat. "Shh, it's all right, Cyril. Go back to sleep and when you wake up, you'll feel better."_

_He climbed into the bunk with Cyril and started to hum and then sing a song that their mother used to sing to them that had comforted Cyril in the past._

> _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!_
> 
> _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that'san Irish lullaby._
> 
> _Over in Killarney, many years ago My mother sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low_
> 
> _Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way_ _And I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day_

_Even once he was sure Cyril was asleep, Ryan kept humming. He fell asleep remembering his mother playing Bing Crosby and singing along to this song._

Of course Cyril hadn't felt better in the morning. The morning had been much worse, but of all the lies he'd told in his life that was not one he regretted. At least he'd given Cyril one final night of comfort. He had owed his little brother so much more.

Ryan had known the truth that night but had been unable to admit it to himself. Heck, he hadn't been able to admit it even when Cyril turned. He knew if Alvarez hadn't pulled him away, he would be dead, killed by his own brother or what his brother had become. Maybe that would have been justice, but it's not how he would have wanted to go out, his last moments filled with the sight of his brother as a monster. He knew in this case there had been nothing he could have done differently, but somehow that hadn't made it any better. Ryan still felt the ache of Cyril's loss.

_He rested his head on his knees, his body shuddering with the overwhelming grief. Not Cyril. Goddammit. No. Ryan was marginally aware of the thundering noise of zombies trying to get into the cafeteria, but he couldn't seem to care. It had been a long time since he'd felt such loss that he was physically sick with it._

_A familiar hand rested against the back of his neck—Alvarez. The touch stayed there for a while, eventually warming him and bringing some sanity back in the midst of grief. Ryan realized that despite everything, he still wanted to survive. And he sure as hell didn't want to be brought down by goddamn zombies. He reached back and briefly gripped Alvarez's hand. The touch was both a thank you and a reassurance that they were in this together whatever happened._

He tried not to think about Cyril's end too often, but sometimes, like tonight, when the dogs wouldn't stop howling, he couldn't help it.

"Ryan, relax man. I promise you all entrances are secure. I checked them myself tonight. Ain't no dogs getting in here again."

The sound of Alvarez's voice startled him. He thought he'd kept his movement to a minimum, but guessed he hadn't been so successful as he'd obviously woken Alvarez. "I'm not worried about the dogs getting in. Go back to sleep."

The first day they'd stumbled upon this hellhole of a makeshift clinic, in the urgency to find something to help Keller, it hadn't occurred to any of them to block the entrances so that dogs couldn't get inside.

_The sound of growling made the needle slip from Ryan's fingers, pricking Keller's skin and then tumbling from Ryan's shaking hands to floor._

_"Damn it!" Ryan turned toward the dogs as Miguel started to swear as well._

_Mukada, however, had things under control. He fired at each of the three dogs that had managed to get in, and then quickly closed and barricaded the doors to their makeshift infirmary. Breathing heavily, he said, "That should hold at least until you're finished."_

_Ryan and Miguel hadn't needed to be told to hurry up. They found another catheter and started the process again. All the while, Ryan couldn't help thinking saving the priest had been the best thing they'd done. The man had proven his worth several times over._

Afterward, it had been a long night going through the place, taking down dogs, and making sure all the entrances were sealed. And Beecher hadn't been any help at all. He hadn't helped with saving Keller's life or with the goddamn dogs. Since that night, though, he, Miguel and Father Mukada had taken turns making sure to check that all entrances remained secured before turning in each night.

While Miguel said nothing, Ryan knew he was skeptical, but Ryan hadn't lied. He wasn't worried about the dogs getting in again. For some reason, though, he didn't want to share his real worry with Miguel. Hell, he wasn't even fully sure what that worry was.

Anxiety rushed through him, and Ryan felt the need to move. He got out of bed and started getting dressed as the words tumbled out of his mouth. "It's just I woke up and heard the dogs, and it came to me that we've been really careless. Once I had that thought I had trouble going back to sleep, but I didn't wanna wake you. Guess I did anyway."

As he spoke, Ryan realized there was truth to what he was saying. Charmed by his own reasoning, he continued, talking at a faster clip. "But we can't continue like this. A few weeks ago, we never would have fallen asleep without putting our clothes back on. For fuck's sake, our backpacks aren't even fucking packed. If something happened, none of us are prepared to leave at a moment's notice. We need a plan."

Miguel sat up and held his hand out, palm forward. "Yo, relax. I agree, we've gotten careless and that ain't acceptable. And tomorrow, we should work on a plan so that we all know our responsibilities if we need to bug out fast." He pushed the covers back and got out of bed, hunting around in the moonlit room for his clothes. As he was buttoning his pants, Miguel added, "We'll work out a plan with the Father in the morning. All right?"

"Sure. I didn't mean we had to figure it out all right now." Ryan felt suddenly deflated. He couldn't explain why because he was definitely right, and it was good that Miguel agreed with him.

Miguel adjusted the sheet and blanket and got back into bed. "C'mon, get back in bed. It's freezing tonight."

As Ryan stood there beside the bed, the moonlight fell across Miguel's face making him look otherworldly, as if he was only gracing this earth temporarily. Heart pounding, Ryan got back into the bed and reached for Miguel, kissing him hard. Some instinct demanded that he feel that Miguel was solid, real. He slid a knee between Miguel's legs, and moved in as close as possible, mentally cursing himself for being the one to bring up that they shouldn't be sleeping naked. Right now, Ryan wanted nothing between them.

It took him a few minutes to realize that while Miguel was kissing him back, he was doing so in a gentle way, stroking Ryan's back in a manner that was meant to soothe him. Crap. He was behaving like some sort of pathetic, desperate maniac—pulling a Beecher. Miguel shouldn't have to deal with this shit. Embarrassed, Ryan attempted to pull away, but Miguel stopped him, holding tight.

"Hey it's me. Remember, I know you, and we're good, with everything. Just relax. I ain't going nowhere. I'll be here in the morning. Sleep." Miguel kissed Ryan and continued stroking his back.

The tension left Ryan's body, bit by bit, and as he drifted off to sleep, he smiled slightly, thinking that for the first time in his life he believed that someone really did know him. And that it was a good thing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ryan stood holding two bottles of water, as he watched Beecher kiss Keller. Afterward Beecher traced a finger along Keller's cheek stopping to rest it on his lips. Keller looked like shit, but he was awake, and of course smiling at Beecher. _Fool._ They whispered something to each other that Ryan was sure he didn't want to hear, and then Beecher was heading in his direction.

"Thanks for staying with him. I appreciate it," Beecher said as he approached.

Huh, Ryan guessed there were actually miracles, as Beecher seemed to mean it. "No problem."

Keller was silent as he watched Beecher leave, his gaze not turning toward Ryan until the other man was out of sight.

"O'Reily."

"K-boy." He walked over, untwisted the cap on one of the bottles of water and handed it to Keller.

"Thanks." Keller took a swallow as Ryan sat on the chair beside the bed.

After a moment, Keller asked, "So who was it who talked some sense into Beecher? You?"

Ryan leaned back in the chair and rested a hand on his stomach. "Me?" He laughed. "Nah, I ain't got the patience. You know that. It was Alvarez. Apparently he's been picking up tips from Mukada." He took a swig of water from his bottle.

Keller nodded. "Well, I owe him." With a smirk, he held up an arm that still had healing bruises. "But you and Alvarez's handiwork needs some help. I don't think either of you are going to win a nurse of the year award."

"Saved your ass."

"That it did." Keller caught his eye, and this time his expression was serious. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Ya know you don't have to stay. I'm sure you've got better things to do. Despite what Beecher thinks, I don't need no babysitter."

Ryan made a dismissive sound. "Wouldn't know that by the way you behaved." He was surprised at the anger in his tone.

"Excuse me?"

"Hiding that infection like you did was really fucking stupid. You know that, right?"

"Not you too. Can't take the wicked down." Keller grinned, his devil may care smile, which didn't charm Ryan, who possessed one of his own.

"Tell that to Vern." That comment wiped the grin from Keller's face. _Good._

"Not funny, O'Reily."

"None of this is funny." Ryan jerked forward so quickly that the chair jumped, scraping the already beat-up floor, and causing a bit of water to splash out onto his hand. "Next time use your fucking head, Keller. You were really lucky we were near this place, and it still had some crappy drugs, or you'd be dead. You get injured. You say something. You get that? It ain't a joke."

Keller looked stunned. "Yeah, I get it." He was silent for a minute, and then the hint of a smirk slipped back. "I didn't know you cared."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I don't. But it's not like there's a lot of opportunity to break in new travel companions, so it'd be a shitload easier to keep the ones I have now. Pickings ain't that great out here."

"Nah, they're pretty shitty. But I've got your back." Keller raised his water bottle.

"And I yours. God help me." Ryan raised his bottle as well and took a swig at the same time as Keller.

"Hey, I remember waking up and Mukada giving me some fucking weird ass tasting water that he says you boiled. Did I dream that?"

"Unfortunately that was no dream. The water here is really shitty. And no matter what the Father said I wasn't so sure that boiling it was really purifying it. Although none of us got sick, so maybe he was right." Ryan shrugged. "When we got a chance to search this crap assed town for food, I had a bit of the ole Irish luck and stumbled on a whole shit load of bottled water."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think some doomsday weirdos must have lived here. There are stockpiles everywhere in the houses, rooms lined with bookcases and containers filled with food and water. I ain't ever seen so many cans of Spam." Ryan's voice conveyed disgust.

"Spam's not so bad."

"I already knew you didn't have much taste, Keller, but this confirms it." Ryan shook his head and took a sip of water. "Although someday I might agree with you, as I hear that shit lasts a long time, and at some point it may be the only food we stumble upon that hasn't spoiled. But I'll have to be damn starving to like Spam. Anyway, it sure looks like the people here had been planning for the end of the world for a long time."

"That planning worked out for them real well, didn't it?"

Ryan gave a short laugh. "Not so much. Some of them had even built, I don't know what you call them, panic, safe rooms."

"Oh not good."

"Tell me about it. We learned the hard way that if a room takes some work to get it open, you probably don't want to see or smell what's inside." Ryan remembered the first time he and Miguel had made that mistake. His mind had been unable to process the carnage, but the scent had immediately turned his stomach. Both of them had stumbled for the outside and promptly puked. "Whatever their idea of doomsday was, it surely didn't involve zombies."

"Even the end of the world crazies couldn't have known that you could turn into a zombie without being bit. I doubt that was in their end of day's manual. No one was prepared for Wygert."

"That should be a curse from now on, pulling a Wygert," Ryan said, his voice drifting off as he gazed around the room, remembering the first time he'd seen the place.

_The room looked like something out of a horror movie. Many of the cabinets were broken, but in them were bags of what he recognized as antibiotics. He also found gloves and IV materials, but no oral medications. In the middle of the room, there was a bed on wheels, which was covered in dirt and other filth that Ryan didn't want to think about. The bed was definitely not useable._

_He walked through the room and into an adjacent corridor and got lucky. There were three beds, each folded into thirds, along the wall. They looked dusty, but relatively clean, and when he wheeled one out and opened it, he found a sealed bag with sheets inside. Score._

_Not perfect, but it would have to do. Ryan hurried back to the others to let them know that he'd finally found a spot that had some drugs._

"Hmmm, pulling a Wygert. I think that's going to be my new favorite curse."

Keller's voice pulled Ryan from his memories. "Figured you'd like that one. I can't even begin to understand what the people who lived in this town were thinking. Despite having all that Spam, and this looking like the only medical facility in town, their medical supplies were piss poor. It made me miss Oz's infirmary. Nothing to be found in pill form."

"Maybe God was supposed to heal them, or perhaps they took the good stuff into one of their bunkers with them."

"And we definitely ain't gonna try to find out if that's the case." Ryan grimaced. "But considering how much trouble we had finding medications when you were injured, going forward when we come upon places, we should definitely do a shakedown for any drugs the people in that area may have had."

"Good point."

"And speaking of God, Alvarez and I found stacks of what we thought were bibles, but on opening them, it looked like someone had taken the 10 commandments and turned them into 50,000 thou shalt nots."

Keller rubbed his chin. "Sounds like Cult 101. I'm guessing no alcohol in this town."

"Dry as a bone."

"Sounds like the zombies did this place a favor."

They were both silent for a moment, and then Keller cleared his throat, and Ryan found himself the subject of a sharp, speculative gaze. He had the disconcerting feeling that he knew what Keller was going to bring up.

"So you and Alvarez?"

Despite already knowing what was coming, Ryan wasn't inclined to make it easy for Keller. Besides the defensiveness was too ingrained. "Me and Alvarez what?"

"You're together, right?"

"Yes. This ain't news to you Keller, so what's your actual question?"

"Were you together in Oz?"

"Yes, but you already knew that." It was a guess, but Ryan could see it was an accurate one.

"Had my suspicions, but wasn't sure. You guys were good at covering." Keller shrugged. "But what can I say, I know what to look for."

"So if you knew, why didn't you use it against me?"

"I didn't have a reason to. O'Reily, as I'm sure you know, you ain't the type who responds well to threats. And you and I, we often had similar agendas, so why would I have wanted to screw that up?"

Ryan recognized the truth in Keller's statement. If Keller had threatened him, he would have decided to end Keller. "Good point. You would have ended up dead."

"Maybe. One of us manipulative bastards definitely would have ended up dead, and that would have been a waste."

He wondered what the reason would have had to be for Keller to have tried to use that knowledge against him, but Ryan quickly realized how stupid it was to wonder, as he knew—Beecher.

"Any way," Keller looked down at his arm, "I owe both you and Alvarez my life, and I ain't gonna forget that." He raised his water as if it were a bottle of beer, and he and Ryan tapped them, and then both took a sip.

Keller didn't ask any more questions and Ryan was glad, not because he didn't want to talk about his relationship with Miguel, but because he wasn't sure he could explain it. It had just sort of happened.

When Keller yawned and tried to put his water bottle down beside the bed, his hand was shaking. So Ryan took the bottle from him.

"Thanks. Gonna catch some more zzz's. You don't need to stay."

"Don't feel like moving, so I'm just gonna stay if ya don't mind." Ryan flopped back in his chair.

"Suit yourself." Keller's voice drifted off and that fast, he was asleep.

Ryan frowned, he wasn't sure why it bothered him to see Keller weak, as he'd seen many strong people in his life brought low or killed, but it did. He shook his head. Unlike some people, he had no desire to play Freud, particularly on himself.

_Better to think on Miguel, anyway._ Ryan smiled as the thought crossed his mind. He tried to remember how the two of them had come together. But no matter how he tried to parse it out, he still got the impression that one-day, they were shooting the shit about Alvarez's adventures when he was on the lam, and the next they were in a supply closet jerking each other off. In his mind there was no progression—it just was. He remembered at first wondering what Alvarez's angle was, but then as it continued deciding not to care and to not allow himself to put a label on it, just to simply let it be, whatever it was. Ryan thought that might have been the smartest decision he'd ever made because what it was had turned out to be everything.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The air had a burnt smell to it that never seemed to dissipate. As he and Mukada carefully made their way over to the next street, they kept an eye out for dogs. The priest was silent, as he was far too often these days, so Ryan couldn't keep his mind from wandering a bit. He remembered one night, before Oz, when he'd had a nasty cold and been bored. Ryan had flipped through the TV channels and had happened upon this special on some town in Pennsylvania —center something or other, no Centralia —where there was this massive underground mine fire that had been burning for decades. Sometime in the 1980s, the government had begun to buy people out and to demolish buildings deemed unsafe, but a few souls refused to leave.

Ryan remembered seeing images of sinkholes that had devoured houses, and sidewalks and roads that emitted a fog like steam. It looked like Hell. Why anyone wouldn't have taken the government money and gotten out was beyond him.

This town seemed even more like Hell with several burnt and collapsed buildings, and something had split the street right up the middle. At least Centralia had looked like it had had some distinct architecture. In that special, they'd showed photos of a cool looking church and some other buildings, but this town had nothing unique. The tallest building seemed to have been only three stories tall, and unless they'd burnt down all the buildings with any interesting features, there was no decoration or ornamentation to these houses. Ryan imagined that even before the world had gone to zombie shit, this place had been its own special brand of Hell.

It creeped him out, and once Keller was well enough, Ryan wanted to get the fuck out of dodge. Thankfully, Keller was getting stronger every day. He'd actually wanted to come as well, "to watch their backs," as they'd gone to retrieve more water. Mukada and Beecher had both vetoed that suggestion. Ryan smirked. Keller had been very annoyed, but Ryan actually agreed with the two men. Keller wasn't ready yet as walking from one end to the other of the labyrinth like place they're staying in winded him. Ryan estimated another week, and he might be ready to make a trip with them.

He and Mukada approached the building where they'd previously found a boatload of water and came to a stop just outside the door.

"I'll go first," Ryan said and pointed toward the door with his rifle.

Mukada nodded and then raised his gun with his standard look of revulsion. While the priest might not like guns, he still did what he had to do. Ryan respected his ability to adjust to the change in their situation, which deemed guns a necessity. He ain't ever had much use for priests. Not since he was young and had gone to one to see if he would help stop their father from wailing on them. Instead he'd been told, "to honor thy father," because if dear old dad was hitting them, they must have been bad and deserving of punishment. Complete and utter bullshit. But Ryan figured if his younger self had gone to Mukada, the outcome would have been different. He would have at least tried to do something.

It was a damn shame that the priest couldn't cut himself some slack over having killed Schillinger. Ryan had always thought that "Thou Shall Not Kill" was more advisement than an absolute rule. After all, this was the God who had wiped out the world with a flood. And it sure looked like he'd decided to do it again. If this time they were the Chosen, the ones God had selected to survive, you really had to wonder what Noah was really like. Ryan would bet God hadn't chosen a wimp. But that wasn't an argument that would help Mukada, so he kept it to himself.

Once inside they made sure it was all clear of surprises, particularly of the four-legged variety. Then they engaged the safeties on their guns and placed their empty backpacks on the floor. Everything looked exactly like it had the last time he and Alvarez had come—with the carton they'd partially emptied still having six bottles left in it, and beyond that piles and piles of water bottles encased in plastic. Ryan figured there was enough water remaining in this spot to allow 5 people to survive for a year, if not longer, and he'd bet there were more stashes of water throughout the complex. But hopefully they'd be long gone before he had to put his estimate to the test, because he'd be fucking mental if they stayed here that long.

He put those last six bottles into his bag, cleared away the empty carton, and then pulled out his knife to cut into the plastic encasing the next set of bottles. All the bottles were marked, "Natural Spring Water," and the logo on them had the words, "Sunny Valley," wrapped around a cartoon drawing of the sun. They loaded water into the backpacks in silence for a while with Ryan occasionally sneaking a glance at Mukada, whose expression was disturbingly blank.

"You okay?" Ryan asked.

"Yes."

While the response was immediate, Ryan knew it was a lie. He and Miguel had thought Mukada would be better once he didn't have to worry about Beecher all the time. But Beecher was as normal as he got these days, and Keller was on the mend. However, Mukada still looked like shit and had grown quieter with each passing day. It didn't take a genius to figure out that things hadn't worked out like he and Miguel had planned. Without Beecher or Keller to worry over, the priest had turned inward, thinking about shit he probably should just let be.

Once they finished loading their packs with water, Ryan thought they deserved a break, and he said so. He took a bottle of water from the remaining stacks and passed one to the priest as well and both of them sat on the ground sipping from them.

After a few minutes of silence, Ryan decided it was time to prod the priest back into the real world. "Mukada, do you think it's still there?" The priest had grown more insistent about not being called Father. Ryan still couldn't bring himself to say Ray, so he went with Mukada.

"I'm sorry, what?"

At least Mukada had been paying attention enough to know that Ryan had asked a question, even if he didn't seem to realize it had been asked without context.

"Africa. I mean, obviously the continent still is, but do you think it's the same or is it like this?"

Mukada rubbed his chin. "Well Africa is a pretty diverse place, many different cultures, some more removed from the global economy than others. I would imagine some places wouldn't have had the money or access to purchase food that contained the additive, so as long as their water source was safe, they would remain unaffected. Of course that doesn't take into account any world aid organization that might have passed out tainted food. We know the Europeans, Russians and Chinese had all adopted use of the additive as well. Plus if people in neighboring countries were affected, they could have crossed borders and killed many before dying from the mutation. It's hard to know as issues in Africa never received the U.S. news coverage they should have."

It was strange to see the priest reflecting on the situation without any emotion. "Yeah, the shit that was going down in Europe and Canada was all over the news. France...." Maybe he shouldn't talk about France. He remembered watching what may have been the last broadcast from that county while in Oz. The American newscasters had been talking to their French counterparts when zombies had broken into the TV studio; hundreds of them had torn the newscasters apart. Not exactly the sort of event you wanted to broadcast live.

"I imagine there are still pockets of civilization across the world," Mukada mused, his voice holding no inflection. "But I don't know how technologically advanced they might be."

They both looked toward the silent sky where they hadn't seen an airplane since they escaped Oz. When the first breakouts had hit the news, it had been announced that all air travel had been suspended.

After a minute of looking skyward, Mukada continued talking. "And I imagine if places do exist that have advanced technology, they'd be wary of coming to any place that had been infected until they figured out how greatly it was infected. And what the long-term effects might be to the environment if any. So I think it will be a long time before anyone comes exploring to see what remains."

Ryan had a feeling it wouldn't be a good thing if they ever heard planes above, as most likely it would be because someone had decided to wipe them off the goddamn earth.

"I always wanted to go Africa, you know, see some jungles. Just see something different."

"Did you know I did some missionary work there for a few years?"

"No, I didn't," Ryan lied. "What was it like?"

Ryan had had numerous conversations with Sister Pete about his desire to go to Africa, and he remembered her having mentioned that Father Mukada had done missionary work there. That knowledge was of course why he'd brought the subject up, as he figured it might help the priest to do some reminiscing, bring him out of his internal hell some. So far it seemed to be working, as this was the most the priest had said in days. Besides, Ryan really had wanted to visit Africa, so he wouldn't mind hearing more about the place.

"Rewarding. It was a time in my life when I believed that I could bring about change. I was filled with pride over my selflessness, my brilliance, and so later, I took it bitterly when the Cardinal decided to teach me a lesson in humility."

Ryan paused for a minute trying to get his mind around the conflicting things the priest had just said. "I'm not sure I'm understanding, you said it was rewarding, but...."

"I sound conflicted?" Mukada smiled. "That's because I am. Not about Africa. I enjoyed the people I met there and the work I did. But now I question what difference, did I, as one person, truly make?"

"One person can make a lot of difference. You're the best example of that." Ryan didn't like where this conversation was heading.

Mukada stared at Ryan for a minute and then looked down at his hands. "Cardinal Abgott once told me that I had too much of an ego, basically that I believed more in myself than God, and I swore he was wrong, but now I think he had it absolutely right. Because now when I know that I can't make a difference for the better, I can't trust in God. At a time when my belief should be strongest, I doubt everything I ever believed. So I can't help thinking all along, I was a sham, hiding my shameless ego behind Faith. Blind to the murderer that lived within me."

Ryan gripped the priest's shoulder and gave him a light shake. "Don't do this to yourself. You ain't that man you just described. You're not a sham, not even close. You've saved lives. And I'm, honest to God, glad you're here with us."

Mukada nodded. "Thank you, Ryan." He sighed and stood. "We should get this water back before it gets dark."

They loaded their now very heavy packs onto their backs and left. Ryan made sure to shut the door, hoping it would continue to keep the dogs out. On the way back he decided to let the silence lie, as it was difficult to talk when you were hauling heavy shit. Besides as they would be hampered by their packs, it was even more important to be on guard for dogs. The last thing he wanted was for this trip to have been a waste and their having to abandon the water to escape from some fucking dogs.

Ryan coughed, the burnt odor that constantly lurked here once again getting to him. Mukada looked his way, and Ryan nodded that he was ok. The only good thing about this goddamn place was that the streets were remarkably clear of the dead. He took a breath, and it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn't fire he smelled, but decay. He pictured the room Miguel and he had found packed with bodies and the stench. That was the smell, just diluted. Then right on the heels of that though came another—dogs were really good at ferreting their way into spots when they smelled something. An image suddenly came to him of starving dogs working their way into rooms packed with the dead and feasting. He gagged and started to walk quicker, only slowing when he realized that Mukada wasn't keeping up with the pace.

Telling himself he was being ridiculous, filling his mind with nightmare images, Ryan stopped to wait for Mukada. Then as the priest approached, he heard it, just like he had when he was with Miguel—the sound of children laughing.

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes," Mukada sounded amazed. "I hear kids and laughter." He smiled as the sound of laugher came again.

Ryan didn't smile. He wasn't sure why but the sound of children laughing in this place creeped him out almost as much as the dogs.

"We should find out who they are."

"No."

Mukada looked shocked. "But Ryan they could need our help. They sound young."

Ryan thought quickly, as he knew saying he thought it was a really stupid idea to go searching for some brats they knew nothing about would just make Mukada insist that they go after them. "The others are expecting us back and will be worried. So let's get the water back, and tell the others, and then we can go from there."

Mukada sighed. "You're right. We should get the water back, and let the others know of the situation. And maybe we can go out in rotations to search for them."

They started walking again, but Ryan gave no indication of agreeing or disagreeing with the priest's plan. As he believed when they got back, it would be easy enough to convince the others that it was a really bad plan to search out some kids, and then he'd have some help managing Mukada.

Apparently, they had taken longer than he'd thought, because when Ryan and Mukada got back, Beecher, Keller and Miguel were waiting for them in the area right off the back entrance.

"Took you guys long enough." Miguel sounded both annoyed and relieved.

Ryan took off the heavy pack. "I wasn't imaging it the last time. I did hear children."

"That's crazy shit. Did you see them?" Miguel rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Nah, just heard them."

"And you're sure that it wasn't the wind blowing through somethin' as there's a lot of crap around here?"

Having put down his pack, Mukada approached, and Ryan's stomach took a dive at the change he saw. The priest appeared in the present, and dammit, showing resolve. He'd found a new cause.

"Yes, Miguel, I heard it as well. We should comb the area in rotations and see if we can find them, as they may need help."

Beecher nodded in agreement.

Ryan hated to be the one to rain on the priest's parade, but he couldn't agree. And with Beecher nodding in agreement, he couldn't let this go any farther. "No," he said firmly.

Mukada looked shocked. "But they could need our help, and they're just kids."

"No, they were just kids. But after seeing this, I doubt they're just kids anymore."

Keller nodded. "If this shit screwed us up, think of what it would have done to kids? And, speaking from experience, messed up kids can do some really fucking messed up shit. Besides, I don't think they had anything close to a normal upbringing here. This place was no Disney Land even before the zombies."

Ryan was glad Keller had chimed in, particularly as it looked like Beecher was revising his initial thinking.

"No, it was definitely some sort of cult living here," Beecher said. "And I don't think they were preparing for the end of the world, but rather against an attack of some kind, probably from the government. There are no gardens or wells or any type of tools to indicate that they were planning to have to be self-sufficient."

"It doesn't matter how they were brought up. They're still children!" Mukada's tone was strident.

Ryan wished he could agree with the priest, as he was sure having someone to help would help Mukada as well. But that instinct that had saved him so many times in Oz was not only telling him that it was really fucking bad idea to search out these kids, but also that they should get out of this damn town really goddamn soon. "What if they sounded young, and aren't? It could just be some crazies."

That argument didn't sway Mukada whatsoever. "It was definitely children, and you know it, Ryan."

Miguel came through with a better argument. "Listen it's not that we're saying we shouldn't help, but we need to proceed with caution, you know. We gotta understand that even though they're just kids, they still could be dangerous. I mean I love dogs, but look at what's happened with them."

Mukada sighed and nodded. "Ok, we'll proceed with caution, but if we do come across any child that looks like they need help, we will provide them with that help. That's not negotiable." He picked up his pack full of water bottles and headed toward the kitchen.

Miguel stared off in the direction Mukada left, and Ryan knew he was worried. He turned toward Keller, expecting some quip, but instead he saw concern there as well.

Beecher shrugged. "Nothing we can do, but make sure he doesn't search for the kids on his own." He indicated the pack of water. "You want some help unloading that?"

"Nah. I got it. Thanks, though." Ryan picked up his pack and headed toward the kitchen as well. He didn't consider it a positive sign that he was agreeing with Beecher that there was nothing the fuck else to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_I'm in the best shape I've ever been in_ , Ryan thought, as he began another set of push-ups. Of course that was because there was fuck all to do, not even Oz had been this boring. Still, he couldn't deny boredom wasn't the only reason he'd been working out so religiously of late. The nagging feeling that something bad was coming wouldn't go away. In fact it kept growing stronger, particularly with Mukada's insistence over the last week and half to keep searching for those goddamn kids. His inability to change the priest's mind combined with that dark dread that he just couldn't shake had him on edge, so he needed to burn off some steam.

After finishing this set of push-ups, he decided against doing another as the sweat was pouring down his face. Ryan reached for his third bottle of water. Damn, he was going to have to piss like a racehorse real soon. He shrugged and began to gulp the water, but as he did so, he glanced out the window. How was it possible that the sun had already started setting? He must have been working out for longer than he'd thought,

He put down his water and stood up to find his watch, a TAG Heuer he'd found in a previous town. It was no Rolex, but it wasn't any shit watch either. Of course there was not much demand for expensive watches these days and plenty of supply. Now if only he could figure out where he'd put the blasted thing. Ryan found it on one of the many bookshelves in the room.

When he saw the time, he felt like a rock had dropped in his stomach. Two fucking hours had gone by. Ryan really hoped that Miguel, Mukada and Beecher were back by now, and that Miguel was just avoiding him, because Ryan had been in a foul mood when they'd left.

Ryan hurried out of the room, and his hope evaporated when he ran into Keller.

"They're not back yet. Something may have gone wrong. I think we need to look for them now." Keller sounded defensive as if he expected an argument from Ryan.

"Agreed. Let's go." Ryan wasn't inclined to waste time arguing over whether or not Keller should go, as unlike Beecher, he'd didn't feel the need to baby the man. Keller had been working out with him earlier for a while, but he still tired somewhat easily. He'd come a long way, and frankly was in far better shape than many people had been in the old days.

Goddamn Mukada for insisting on searching for those fucking kids and making the others worry that if they didn't continue to agree to search, Mukada would stupidly go out on his own. It was all Mukada's fault that Miguel was out there, possibly injured or worse. A little voice in his head whispered, "It's your fault as well if you hadn't been so fucking nasty, Miguel wouldn't have wanted to get away, and it would have just been Beecher who went," but Ryan was very adept at not listening to little voices.

Just as he and Keller were going to get their guns, they heard the backdoor slam open, and they changed course, heading to the door. When they got there to Ryan's horror, he saw Miguel slumped, arms around Beecher and Mukada, who were obviously keeping him upright.

"What happened?" It was Keller who managed to get the words out first. For some reason Ryan, for once, had no words.

"Those fucking kids tossed bottles at us!" Beecher sounded pissed off and out of breath. "One hit Alvarez on the head, hard enough to knock him down."

"It just threw my balance off for a minute," Alvarez mumbled.

While Ryan was relieved to hear Miguel speak, he was concerned by what he thought he saw in Alvarez's hair. "Is that blood?"

"Yes," Beecher said. "We need to get him to our infirmary and take a look to see how bad he's cut."

"It ain't that bad," Miguel protested. He tried to move out of Beecher's and Mukada's grasp but did not succeed, as he stumbled, which meant that both men tightened their grasp. "Just give me a minute, man, and then I'll be fine."

"Once we've got you seated, so that we take a look at your wound, you can have as many minutes as you want."

To Ryan, Mukada's calm voice was like boiling oil. He ignored the man, and looked pointedly at Miguel. "Let's play follow the leader as I lead the way to the infirmary, ok?" Ryan was surprised by how hard it was just to speak that sentence without his voice shaking.

Miguel frowned and sighed. "Ok, lead on."

Ryan led the way to their makeshift infirmary, indicating for Miguel to sit while he washed his hands, and afterward used a whole lot of hand sanitizer. For the first time, he was very thankful that there had been a shitload of that stuff in the cabinets. He grabbed a clean towel and a bottle of water, because he wasn't going to use that godawful smelling water that came out of the faucet to clean an injury.

He didn't say a word while he did all this, not even when he was standing before Miguel and carefully pushing aside his hair so he could get at the wound.

His silence must have bothered Miguel, who felt the need to pointlessly insist, "I'm fine."

"You were hit by a bottle, and you're bleeding. That is not my definition of fine. Stay the fuck still."

"Lovely bedside manner you've got, O'Reily."

While Ryan heard Beecher snicker, he let it go, as he was too busy carefully wiping blood from Miguel's wound, so that he wouldn't start new bleeding. To his relief, the injury, once you cleared away the blood, didn't look bad. "Ok, the cut doesn't look deep."

"See, man, I told you I was fine." Miguel started to stand, but Ryan put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting.

Mukada raised an issue that hadn't occurred to Ryan. "You still could have a concussion. You did fall to your knees, and you weren't too steady on your feet after it happened."

Ryan frowned. "Does your head hurt?"

"Of course it does, man. I got hit with a fucking bottle."

"Do you have your flashlight?" Beecher asked.

"Nah. I took it out of my pocket before working out. Can I borrow yours?" The place had been filled with those small, but really powerful flashlights, so they each had started carrying them, as the electricity was iffy at best.

"Sure." Beecher handed it to Ryan. "Shine this in his eyes and see if they contract."

Ryan did as Beecher said, but before he could check Miguel closed his eyes. "Yo, what the fuck? That hurt. Can you wait a minute or three?"

"Sensitivity to light is symptom of a concussion, right?" Ryan felt his heart start to beat a panicked rhythm. A brain injury could be bad, really fucking bad.

"I think we should give him a few minutes before shining a light into his eyes." Keller's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. For a moment, Ryan wondered why, but the thought was consumed by worry and wiped away.

"Yeah, listen to Keller, please. Can you stop hovering, O'Reily. I'm really thirsty. Could you please get me some water?"

"Can someone grab a bottle of water?"

"There was a reason I asked you," Miguel muttered.

Ryan was immovable. "I know, but I'm staying right here until I know you're fucking fine."

Keller showed up with a bottle of water. He opened it and passed it to Alvarez. "Here ya go."

"Thanks." Miguel drank the water, taking a big swallow at first, and then smaller sips thereafter. He took a deep breath. "Ok, let's get this shit over with. Shine your goddamn light."

Needing no additional encouragement, Ryan turned the flashlight on, and directed it at Miguel's eyes.

Beecher, who was standing by Ryan's shoulder said, "His pupils are reacting normally, so I don't think he has a head injury."

Ryan turned off the flashlight.

"I told you I was fine." Miguel blinked a few times. "Man, those flashlights may be tiny, but damn they're powerful. I think I'm going to be seeing spots for hours."

"I think a few spots are worth it to be sure you don't have a brain injury, don't you Miguel?"

The sound of Mukada's voice was like a match hitting kindling. Ryan's anger ignited, and he spun around. "You do realize it could have been a lot worse? You're going to stop now, right?" Ryan saw Mukada start to shake his head, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to punch the man. "What's it going to take to get it through your fucking head those goddamn kids don't want our fucking help? They attacked you!"

Mukada took deep breath and met Ryan's furious gaze. "They're kids. They don't know any better."

"You've been trying to get them to come out for two weeks now, and they ain't come out. We should let them be," Keller said.

"I agree, we gave it a shot, but the behavior of the children supports the conclusion that they don't want our help, and it's time to let it go now." Beecher sounded like a lawyer.

Beecher trying to be the rational one amused a small part of Ryan, but that amusement was quickly buried by anger. Still, he was relieved that both Beecher and Keller were on his side.

Mukada took a breath and said, "I disagree, they...."

Miguel cut in. "Shit, do we have to argue about this now? I've had enough for the day. You can all feel free to jaw about this endlessly, but I'm going to clean this goddamn crap off of me." He indicated his dirt-stained clothes.

When Miguel stood, all thoughts of arguing left Ryan's mind. "I'll come with you." He took Miguel's arm to help steady him.

"I don't need no help walking." Miguel said, but as he didn't pull out of Ryan's grasp, Ryan figured it was just talk.

No one said anything as they left the room, and Ryan kept the silence until he and Miguel were back in their own room. Once the door was closed, he finally noticed just how grimy the other man's clothes were.

"I'll help you get these dirty things off. Don't argue."

"I ain't gonna argue."

He pulled the shirt over Miguel's head.

"Gracias." Miguel's voice sounded tired. "I can get the pants."

"You're no fun." That comment earned him a hint of a smile. When Miguel had to reach out and hold onto his shoulder as he stepped out of the pants, Ryan didn't say anything, as he knew commenting wouldn't help none.

"I think I wanna shower, as man, this is just gross." Miguel looked at the grime that had managed to get through his shirt and onto his chest with disgust.

"I'll help."

"I can shower on my own."

"I'm sure ya can, but wouldn't it be nicer if I scrubbed your back for you." Ryan smiled, Irish charm at full wattage. Just in case charm alone wouldn't work, he added some common sense to his argument. "Besides you know how fast the water turns cold here, and no offense, but you ain't moving so quickly."

"Fine, if ya really want to, you can soap me down." Miguel grinned.

"Trust me, I really want to."

Miguel laughed.

"Why don't you head into the bathroom, and I'll grab a fresh bar of soap, and a clean change of clothes for you."

"Sounds great."

Ryan left their room and walked over to what Beecher called the "linen closet." If this was a linen closet, it was the biggest one he'd ever seen, as there were rows of self-standing shelving, as well as shelving bolted to the wall. Stored on these shelves were many sets of sheets and towels with each set having been sealed in separate bags. There also were many boxes of bar soap along with the generic hand sanitizer that could be found everywhere in this damn place. It made Ryan wonder if in one of their books it said, "Thou Shalt Not Use the Same Sheet Set Twice," and "Thou Shalt Not Neglect the Use of Hand Sanitizer." It definitely seemed to be some bizarre and extreme interpretation of cleanliness is next to Godliness.

After grabbing two sets of fresh towels and a bar of soap, he went back into their bedroom. Miguel appeared to already be in the bathroom as the door was closed. Thankfully, Ryan didn't hear any running water. He set down the towels and soap on the bed. Then he went to the dresser and grabbed a new shirt and some cargo pants, as well as underwear and socks, for both himself and Miguel.

_God I miss jeans_ , he thought. The pair he'd been wearing when they'd arrived had long since bit the dust, fucking dogs, and so far this damn complex seemed to have nothing other than cargo pants, and really long cargo shorts. Unless you counted the long sleeved oatmeal sacks that must have served as dresses as for any woman who'd lived here as clothes, which he didn't.

After placing the new clothes for Miguel and the towels in their bags on the bed, Ryan quickly undressed, tossing his clothes onto the bed as well. Then, he removed the towels from their bags, tossing the bags into the trashcan, which had once been a recycling bin. Cradling both sets of towels in his left arm, he made his way over to the bathroom, noting the small pile of Miguel's discarded clothing just outside the door.

Ryan knocked, not out of politeness, but rather because he did not want to startle the other man.

"Come in."

Miguel sat on the closed toilet seat. He gave Ryan a tired smile when Ryan came in and placed the towels on the long vanity that was in the bathroom. The bathrooms upstairs were huge in this place.

"The old towels wouldn't do?"

Ryan shrugged. "Figured we might want fresh ones. Ain't like this place doesn't have enough. All though I don't know why all the towels and sheets are white?"

"Maybe they got something against color, thought it was sin or something, because ain't much of it around. If things ain't white, they're brown."

As Miguel spoke, Ryan gathered up the old towels and placed them on the pile outside, taking a moment to quickly shed his clothes. He'd take that crap to the laundry area later, which really was just a discard area, because outside of jeans, they ain't washed a darn article of clothing, and Beecher was the only lucky stiff who still had a pair of jeans.

He went back into the bathroom and shut the door. "You ready?"

Miguel nodded and tiredly stood. "Yeah, you can turn on the water."

Ryan did, and then they both quickly got into the shower, knowing that the water wouldn't stay warm long.

Using a washcloth, he carefully but quickly washed Miguel. The water was barely lukewarm, and it would be cold pretty soon. Ryan figured the days of hot showers would soon be but a memory. As he cleaned off the dirt, he took note of every scratch, most of which were on Miguel's knees and hands. Thankfully, none looked really bad, although the ones on his knees looked like they might turn into bruises.

When he reached Miguel's ankles, Ryan paused for a brief moment to look up. Miguel had one arm braced against the shower wall, and his head rested against that arm. The water ran down his neck. Even bruised and exhausted, Miguel was beautiful. Ryan chided himself for being sentimental, as he stood, though, he couldn't resist giving Miguel's hip a gentle caress. The other man leaned back against him.

Ryan rinsed out the washcloth and reached to turn off the water.

Miguel grabbed his wrist. "What about you?" The words sounded slurred.

"I'm good. Had a shower yesterday, and I didn't fall in whatever crap you did." He turned off the shower, as Miguel nodded.

After guiding Miguel out of the shower, Ryan grabbed a towel off the vanity and handed it to Miguel. Then he grabbed one of his own. Damn it was cold in here today.

Both dried off their hair and keeping the towels, which were thankfully huge wrapped around them, they made their way into the bedroom.

Miguel looked down at the clothes on the floor. "I'll take those down to the laundry."

"Don't worry 'bout it. I got it."

"Thanks, man."

Miguel walked over to the bed and waved off Ryan's attempts to help him dress. Even though Miguel stayed seated while he dressed, Ryan kept an eye on him as he put his own clothes back on. When he pulled his shirt over for a second panic overtook him, but Miguel was still there and fine.

_You need to calm the fuck down_ , he told himself, which was easier said than done. It was that lingering worry, which made him ask sharply, "You ain't still planning to help Mukada search for those goddamn kids, are you?"

"Fuck no, but I didn't see no point in going over all that shit tonight. I mean, man, what's the point, when we can do it in the morning?"

Relief flooded through Ryan. "Makes sense." He took away their damp towels and put them on the dirty pile of clothes.

"I don't think we'll be here much longer as Keller is recovering quickly, so there's no reason to stay in this hellhole any longer."

Ryan was surprised by the vehemence in Miguel's tone. "Yeah, was thinking along those lines myself."

"It's starting to get cold, and I was thinking we might want to find a place to hunker down for the winter."

"You know Mukada is going to say we should stay here." Ryan walked back toward the bed.

"Uh-uh, too many fucking dogs. And those fuckers are going to get more vicious as it gets colder and they can't find food."

"Could be dogs elsewhere, as well."

"I thought you wanted to blow this joint?"

"I do. Just playing devil's advocate."

"Can you wait until tomorrow to do be fucking annoying like that?"

He could really be a shit sometimes, well most of the time. Miguel looked beat. Ryan sat down next to him and stroked his arm in apology.

"So, what the fuck happened?"

"The kids started yelling shit." Miguel waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"What type of shit?"

"I don't remember just some sort of obnoxious shit. You know I stopped worrying about what they were yelling when they started to throw bottles." Miguel looked down at his feet.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. Miguel was keeping something. But considering Miguel's exhaustion, Ryan figured he wasn't likely to get an answer right now. Miguel was even more stubborn when he was tired. So he let it go for now.

"You want something to eat?"

"Nah, I'm not hungry right now. I just wanna lie down for a bit, ya know, take a nap."

Ryan frowned. He would have been happier if Miguel stayed awake, as what if he did have a concussion? How could anyone be sure a person didn't have a concussion with just a stupid flashlight test?

His concern must have showed on his face as Miguel said, "You worry too much. I ain't got no concussion, and I don't need no babysitter."

"Get some sleep."

"I take it you ain't leaving."

Ryan stood instead of responding. "Let's get you under the sheets."

"When did you turn all nurturing and shit?" Miguel smirked at him, as he stood.

"It's a one time deal, so get in," Ryan said as he pulled back the sheets and the other man climbed in with a sigh. He sat next to Miguel, stroking his arm until his lover fell asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
The bad feeling, which had been haunting Ryan, had grown so that it now felt like a physical presence, something he could touch. He swore that whatever it was would appear soon. God, he was so exhausted, but he couldn't seem to fall asleep. Each time his eyes slipped closed thoughts of Cyril came to him, bringing memories of how he had told his brother everything would be ok, and then the entire world had gone to hell. Those thoughts fed his growing unease.

Ryan glanced over at Miguel, who, thankfully, slept soundly. The other man had napped for almost an hour, during which time Ryan had checked their backpacks, adding bandages and double-checking that each pack had enough water, granola bars and other necessities. When Miguel woke he had been hungry, so Ryan had grabbed them both something to eat. They spoke about nothing for a bit, but then decided to turn in for the night, which only Miguel had been successful at doing.

A dog howled, but Ryan barely had time to shiver before that noise was followed by a loud crash. He said straight up as did Miguel. A few seconds later, several more crashes sounded and an acrid scent entered the room. He pushed aside the covers and started to put on his sneakers.

"That's smoke." Miguel got out of bed and had his sneakers on by the time Ryan stood and glanced over to make sure he was ok.

Miguel seemed to be moving fine as he actually reached their backpacks first, and stopped to put his on, which Ryan thought was an excellent idea, so he followed suit. It definitely seemed like it was time to get the fuck out of dodge. He grabbed a handgun and rifle and passed them to Miguel before grabbing his own.

Ryan made his way to the door and carefully touched the doorknob, expecting it to be hot, but thankfully it wasn't. However when he opened it, smoke billowed in and he coughed. Thankfully, unnoticed by him Miguel had slipped into the bathroom and wet two hand towels. He nodded his thanks as he covered his nose and mouth with one, and they ventured out into the smoke filled hall.

Beecher and Keller were already in the hallway with their packs and guns. Similarly, they both had towels over their mouth and nose.

Keller slipped his towel down for a second. "Where's Mukada?"

"I'm here, let's go," Mukada said. Like the others he had his backpack, guns and a towel, with which he re-covered his nose and mouth after he spoke.

Right now, Ryan was extremely grateful that he had reminded the others of the importance of being ready at a moment's notice. He was also really glad that everyone had taken up Keller's recommendation that each person keep a handgun as well as a rifle near their backpacks, and hook a waterproof bag to their backpack with extra ammo. At least they were armed, as while there were stashes of weapons throughout the building, they wouldn't have time now to get to them, and who knew what they would find once outside.

What they found was an inferno. The front door was already completed blocked by fire. _How the fuck did this happen so quickly_ , Ryan thought. He got his answer when they had to duck as bottles come through the windows.

"Fucking bastards are throwing Molotov Cocktails." Ryan couldn't say more, because it was too damn hard to breathe. Besides they really needed to find another exit, and luckily this place had several exits. Unfortunately, some of them they'd had to block to keep out the dogs.

Beecher took the lead, somehow navigating them through the spreading fire to the back door they'd been using to go find water. There were no windows near that door, and for now, it was clear of fire.

As they exited the complex, Ryan saw Beecher shake his head and mutter something, and he turned to look bag at the door, where the message, "Get out Fags. Hell is waiting for you," was scrawled.

He didn't have much time to think on it, as outside, there was this fucking teenager lobbing Molotov Cocktails at the rest of the complex. Ryan raised his gun, ignoring the priest's shout of "Ryan, no."

The kid's face was smudged with soot, and his eyes had an insane look, as if the fire was a drug that had placed him in a state of ecstasy. He was much taller than the other kids they had previously glimpsed. Ryan pegged him at about 15 or 16. Maybe he was their ringleader.

By Mukada's "please no," he figured that the others had joined him at having their guns ready.

Before anyone could shoot, the kid dropped to his knees and opened his arms wide, as if he was making an appeal to Heaven. "Dear Father, I have cleansed this once holy place with holy fire and commit it once again unto you. I ask for thy forgiveness, and that thee grant me entrance into thy holy house."

Then quicker than Ryan could raise his gun, the kid ran into the fire. The sight was horrifying, and the sounds even worse. The screaming seemed to go on endlessly.

Beecher brought them to their senses. "We need to move or that will soon be us."

It was hard to run with their packs, but somehow they managed it. The blaze spread quickly, and it wasn't long before the ground shook and they heard explosions. Ryan lost his balance, and when he regained it, the first thing he did was check for Miguel, and there was a moment of panic until he located him, just a few steps behind. Ryan mentally thanked Keller again for recommending they take extra ammo, as he thought it was highly likely that ammunition igniting was probably the source for the explosions.

The fire moved along the electrical wires, spreading from roof to roof. Every breath seared, making it harder to run, but Ryan took over from Beecher and spear-headed the way through, somehow finding paths clear of fire, always making sure that Miguel was nearby.

Several of the kids seem to be running toward them, he raised his gun, but then realized the fucking lunatics were actually going for the flames. They'd chosen their doom, but Ryan was determined his group would not share the same fate. Somehow he kept managing to find paths where the fire wasn't.

Another set of explosions caused the ground once again to shake, and he heard Beecher shout, "Chris!"

But when he paused, Keller was already getting to his feet, face grey, but he was moving.

Miguel touched his arm and pointed. Ryan understood immediately, the fire seemed to be moving toward the right, so he nodded and turned left. Everyone followed, while a steady stream of ash rained down.

It seemed like they ran forever. Ryan's chest felt like it was about to burst. How long ago had it been that he had the thought that he was in the best shape of his life? It seemed years ago.

Finally when it felt like he was about to fall over, and it had been some time since he'd seen flames, he began to run slower and then began to walk. While he could still smell smoke as there were no longer ashes falling from the sky, he figured they could risk stopping for a bit.

When he stopped, Miguel was as expected right next to him, but he noticed that the others had fallen a back a few paces. All seemed to accept that if Ryan thought they could stop, they could do so.

Like Ryan, Miguel was out of breath, but otherwise seemed fine. He sat down on the ground, and reached into his bag for a bottle of water, and took small sips. Ryan unloaded his bag and did the same.

A short while after, Beecher and Keller got to the clearing. Keller was definitely hurting, as he stopped to rest his hand against a tree and allowed Beecher to help him sit.

Ryan fished around in his bag for another bottle of water, walked over and opened it. He handed it to Keller. "Drink up K-boy."

Keller took it and started to gulp the water.

"Slower," Beecher said.

Keller started to take smaller sips. "Thanks," he said with a nod toward Ryan.

Mukada sat down quietly, and Ryan found he could care less that the priest had made it.

Apparently Miguel still cared, though, as he touched the priest on the shoulder and asked, "You ok, man?"

"Yes, thank you, Miguel," Mukada said in a soft, tired tone.

For a few moments they silently caught their breath and sipped water. Ryan chose almonds over an energy bar. They had decided to pack more lighter weight snacks in their packs then heavy canned goods, and for some reason there was a ton of those 100 calorie packs of almonds. As he stared at the pack of almonds, Ryan's anger ignited.

"What sort of fucking freaks stock-up on 100 calorie packs of almonds and hand sanitizer, and then after everything had happened, burn down a place just because they hate," Ryan paused and took a breath, "gays? Not to mention, how did they know?"

Keller shrugged. "Dunno, but there were huge ass windows in the rooms and no fucking curtains. Kids could have been spying from across the street."

Ryan felt ill thinking he might have been watched by some nasty kids. "Must have had really good eyes and fucking amazing vision."

"They could have also had telescopes or binoculars. I don't think anyone in that community had much expectation of privacy," Beecher said.

"Except for whatever fucking dickwads were in charge. I'm sure those assholes had privacy."

"You were right about being worried, Ryan. I'm sorry I didn't see it, and I should have, as I'd read through their worship book, which was a scary litany of hatred." Mukada looked nervously at Ryan, but Ryan found it was too much energy to remain angry. So he nodded, indicating that they were good.

"Why is it such a big surprise?" Keller asked. "Ain't like hatred disappeared when the zombies came. It's still here with us, inside us."

Ryan shrugged. "Guess so. But they screwed themselves. I mean what the fuck jumping into flames, and those were probably the lucky ones."

"That's always the way it works when you're self-hating—in the end you're the one who gets screwed the worst."

Ryan eyes widened not expecting such insight from Keller. He noticed that Beecher had a similar expression on his face.

"While I'd like to sit here a bit longer, man, if we don't get moving and find some shelter for the night, it will be us that's screwed." Miguel took a sip of his water. "We left the tents by the front door, not that we could have hauled them with us anyway as fast as we had to move."

Keller sighed. "Fuck, you're right. We should get moving."

No one spoke as they hauled themselves to their feet, resettling their hiking packs on their backs. With grim humor, Ryan noticed the final jean casualty had occurred as one knee of Beecher's jean was ripped wide open. Maybe they could all find new jeans once they got to another town that hopefully wouldn't be so fucked up as this last one had been.

They moved on at a much slower pace. Ryan once again took the lead with Miguel. He soon grew concerned as every step seemed to take them further into a forest, but what choice did they have?

At least he didn't hear any dogs. Thank God for small favors.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After walking for what seemed like hours, a building that was designed to look like a cabin appeared. In Ryan's experience, cabins were pretty much shacks, but not this one, the damn thing even had a porch.

Keller whistled. "Someone had a lot of money to sink into their hunting cabin. Let's hope it looks as good on the inside as it does from out here."

"And let's hope it's one of those cabins that was bought more because the owners wanted to impress clients with their hunting cabinets, so that no one is inside." Beecher started to move forward, his pistol in his hand.

"And if it is inhabited?" Mukada's voice and stance were full of concern.

"Well then, we will ask them politely if we can stay the night." Keller smiled. "I can be charming. Remember I was married several times."

Ryan exchanged a glance with Beecher, and they both rolled their eyes.

"And if they say no?"

The smiled dropped from Keller's face. "Then we'll have no choice but to insist." As Mukada started to object, Keller held up a hand. "If that happens, it will just be for the night. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the wind picking up."

Ryan decided it was time to jump in. "He's right. We ain't seen anything else but this place, and I ain't risking getting caught out at night in a fucking storm."

"Why don't we actually find out if the place is inhabited instead of arguing about it?" Beecher again started moving forward.

With a smile and a nod, Miguel followed as well. "For once, I'm with him."

Beecher went to the left and Miguel to the right. Ryan dropped back diagonally to the right so that he could keep Miguel in his sights in case he signaled. He saw Keller doing likewise on the left. It wasn't long before Miguel signaled to indicate that he saw nothing of concern from his side. He looked toward Keller, who nodded. Beecher and Miguel rejoined the group.

"Nothin' from my side," Miguel said. "It actually looks like no one's been here for a while. Even from the window, I could see all the damn dust."

"That was my impression as well. The cabin appears to be uninhabited." Beecher gave a grim smile. "Although things aren't always what they seem. Shall we break in?"

"Beech, where are your manners? It would be rather rude to just break in and not knock first, don't you think?"

Keller had adopted some sort of strange British accent, which for some reason made Beecher chuckle, and then Ryan would have sworn his gazed turned lustful. Was this some type of role-playing thing Beecher and Keller did? And why the fuck had he allowed himself to think about Beecher and Keller role-playing, because that thought was really fucking nasty.

It was Mukada who responded, though. "Yes, it would be rude to just break in, so I'll knock. No offense, as I'm sure you would be immensely charming."

They all laughed at Mukada's comment, and Ryan reflected on how much things had changed with the priest being comfortable busting on Keller.

"None taken," Keller said with a smile and thankfully, Ryan thought, with no British accent.

Mukada knocked and called out, "Hello, if anyone's inside, we mean you know harm. We're just looking for a place to spend the night. We'll leave in the morning."

They waited for a few minutes, and when no one answered, Keller asked, "It seems like the place is empty, so now we can politely break in?"

Mukada just shook his head at Keller's teasing. "Yes, you may."

Ryan had started to look around to see what they might be able to use to break in when Keller pulled out a lock pick set from his backpack and started working on the padlock. He laughed. "Kudos for being prepared even after having to flee an inferno."

"I was a boy scout. I'm always prepared." Keller smirked, and Beecher made a snorting noise.

The lock pick set of Keller's came in rather handy as it turned out there were several locks to get through not just the padlock. "Wooh." Keller wiped his brow in mock exhaustion. "I hope this is worth it."

Mukada looked concerned. "Are you sure there was no one inside? Why would they have so many locks if it isn't to keep out mutants?"

Beecher hooked his thumb toward Keller. "To keep people like him from breaking in."

Keller gave a charming smile. "Why would they want to keep me out?" He slung his rifle off his shoulder and entered the cabin.

The others followed him with Ryan hanging to the back, and like Keller unslinging his rifle from his shoulder. They spread out going from room to room, and only when they were sure that everything was all clear did Ryan close the cabin door.

They entered the cabin where they found four bedrooms, three of which were decent-sized and one that was very tiny. All had comforters on them that were a bit dusty from disuse. There was also a huge living room, a decent sized kitchen and a porch. The cabin also had a fireplace, but Ryan wasn't much for using it at the moment as having just escaped an inferno made a fire rather unappealing. Although it might come in handy if they decided to remain here.

"Winter will be here before we know it. What do you think about staying here?"

Beecher shook his head. "Too remote. Do any of us have any wilderness survival training? Anyone ever killed a deer and skinned it?"

"Point made." Ryan thought Beecher had zoned in on something they should brush up on. "I never thought I'd say this, but we might want to go into a library at some point. Obviously we can handle the killing part, but I don't know the first thing about skinning an animal."

"For what it's worth, I agree that would be a good idea." Mukada spoke in a quiet weary tone of voice.

As the others only nodded their agreement, Ryan didn't think any of them would be awake for much longer. It turned out he was right. Within the hour, they were all asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Come morning, he and Miguel were up early and out on the porch, the threat of a storm having long since passed. The sun was shining, and it was a brisk fall day.

Ryan brought up something that had been on his mind. "What were those fucking crazy kids yelling when they threw bottles at you, Beecher and Father Mukada?

"Go to hell fags."

"Fuck! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was tired, and thought we'd have time to deal with it in the morning. And I didn't want ya goin' off on the Father without me being there, because it wouldn't have been smart."

Ryan was quiet for a while because he knew Miguel was right about him going off on Mukada. As there seemed to be nothing further to say on the topic, Ryan broached another issue that had been on his mind.

"Do you really think it's a smart idea to keep trying to find people? I mean you gotta admit we haven't had a good track record so far."

Miguel leaned against the corner of the porch and looked skyward. "Neither place was the right one for us."

"What do ya mean, the right place?"

"Neither felt right. I have faith that when we get to the right place, we'll know. I'm not saying it will be perfect, but the people and place will just feel somehow right, ya know? There ain't no way just the four of us can survive long term."

Ryan frowned. "Faith like faith in God? Because to me it doesn't look like he's giving much of a damn."

Miguel shrugged. "In a sense. Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters."

"Why?" Miguel looked at him. "I think all that matters is ya have faith."

"So you're saying we're going forward on blind belief."

"No, I'm saying we're moving forward on faith."

Ryan didn't understand the difference, but as the others were stirring, he let the conversation drop.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
After leaving the cabin, it took them several days to find their way out of the forest. While they did have to sleep outside, at least the cabin had sleeping bags. Ryan thought it was a bit of the Irish luck that there had been no storms, no dogs, and thankfully nothing bigger either.

However on approaching the edge of the forest, they were assaulted by a horrific stench, which reminded Ryan of that damn cult town. They proceeded with caution and came upon a huge pile of dead dogs.

"I was afraid of this." Miguel sounded sad. "I guess it wasn't just hunger, but the zombie sauce affecting dogs as well."

It should have made Ryan feel better that the dogs were dying, but it didn't. _Man's best friend pays for being loyal. It hadn't been the dogs' fault any more than it had been Cyril's._ He stopped himself from thinking of Cyril. Ryan couldn't afford to be weak now.

As they walked, the smell grew worse. After a while, he wished they were back in the forest, even if they had to sleep outside. At one point, they entered a house with the mark of the National Guard, only to find piles of dead dogs inside.

Miguel said, "Poor dogs. They weren't themselves, man."

Ryan thought, _neither were the people, but the zombie sauce killed them just the same._ He couldn't seem to turn his thoughts from Cyril, the rage in his eyes.

"Ryan?"

He heard the concern in Miguel's question. "I'm fine."

Ryan could tell Miguel didn't believe him, but he was smart enough not to push.

They chose another place to sleep that night. Places were getting harder to come by particularly those with the National Guard mark, which meant places were less likely to be habitable, even if just for a night.Ryan looked at the small town center ahead dismally and felt Miguel punch his shoulder.

"Cheer up. It may not look like much, but ya never know what ya might find."

Ryan was skeptical, and it must have showed in his expression, because Miguel shook his head and repeated, "Ya never know what ya might find."

He thought it would be more likely to be something bad than something good but decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

It turned out Miguel was right as they found a sporting goods store with a sign that read, "Come in. The door is open. Please take only what you need, and leave what you do not for others. God Bless."

"Oddly trusting."

Ryan was surprised that it was Mukada who had voiced his thoughts.

"Nah, small town like this probably everyone knew everyone else, and most were decent folk." Keller shrugged. "And knowing they were going to die, they decided to help folks who came along. Still, it would behoove us to be wary as no matter what these people's intent, we can't know that others who came here before us had the same intent."

It always struck Ryan as odd how occasionally Keller sounded very educated. He assumed it was part of some con he had once run and left it at that. Regardless none of them had any objection to proceeding with caution.

They carefully went down every aisle, and only when they were sure the store was empty, Miguel said, "Man, I think we hit the jackpot."

Ryan agreed with Miguel's assessment that they had gotten really fucking lucky as he saw a pile of jeans and several coats. Hopefully their sizes were in stock, or at least close to it.

Luck was with them as they all found coats, jeans and shirts in their sizes. Beecher found a book on hunting, the last one, as well as some hunting knives. He passed some of the knives to Keller and the others. "We should get tents and new backpacks as ours are hanging by threads."

As they all agreed, and the items were available, they obtained them.

There being nothing else they needed from the store, they were careful to leave the place just as neat as they had found it. Ryan wondered why they were being so respectful of someone who was most likely dead. It might have been the generosity the storeowner had shown by leaving the note and the door open.

After leaving the store, they noticed that many of the houses were marked, and not with the National Guard marking they were used to seeing.

"I wonder if this town developed their own system for flagging which houses had been cleared," Mukada said.

"Or if they even bothered to clear them. I wouldn't have bothered if I were them," Miguel said.

Mukada gave Miguel a quizzical look. "Why would you say that?"

"Small town. It might not have had the resources the bigger suburbs did to handle things, and I know I wouldn't wanna risk my life to clear out freaking zombies." Miguel pointed. "Notice how the houses with the marks are boarded over several times. I take that to be a warning to enter at your own risk."

Standing in the town square in the sun, Ryan noticed the trees were already vibrant shades of red and orange. Fall was upon them. Keller seemed fine, but they were still making frequent stops for him to rest anyway, as the moron probably wouldn't say shit if he felt like crap.

Ryan thought back to their first few days out of Oz and how cold it was when they stopped running. And how they'd been lucky that spring had come early that year. While he'd been inside for a few years, he still remembered how rare it was to have two mild winters in a row. Chances were that this winter would be brutal.

"Winter will be here before we know it. I think we should find a place, gather food, and maybe even firewood. If we get a bad winter there could be weeks where things are inaccessible. And we won't last long exposed outside," Beecher said, apparently on the same wavelength as Ryan. Go figure. Although Ryan had to admit since Miguel had performed his magic on Beecher, they'd been getting on fine.

He was surprised though when Miguel frowned and shook his head. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"We don't even know what those signs on those doors mean."

"I didn't necessarily mean this town," Beecher said. "I just meant soon."

"And I agree," Ryan said.

"Let's first take a look at what else we might find here." Mukada looked back toward the sporting goods store. "If the sign we just found is anything to go by, there were some good people living in this town."

"And probably some bad as well," Keller added, "Either of which could have survived."

Leave it to Keller to play Devil's Advocate, but while Ryan agreed with him, he still would like to check the town out. "While I agree, I also think it's still worth checking the town out to see what else we might find. I doubt we'd have similar luck with a drug store, but ya never know."

In the post office, they found some pamphlets, which described the town as a great place to spend the summer. "Although if you read between the lines I think the winters may be brutal here," Beecher said.

Ryan leaned over Beecher's shoulder to read the pamphlet. "From my point of view, ya don't really need to do much reading between the lines. I think the line saying 'From late November to the end of March, the roads may be impassible' is a pretty clear warning."

Beecher chuckled. "True, I guess there isn't much reason to read between the lines." He glanced at Keller. "I still think it's worth checking for medicines, but I think we should move on."

"Agreed" Miguel spoke with such firmness that it surprised Ryan.

As they moved on to search for medicines, he hung back so he could talk to Miguel. "Do ya have a bad feeling 'bout this place?"

"Nah, it's nothing like that. This town isn't giving me any bad vibes. I just don't wanna spend too much time here because I don't think we have too long before it starts to snow."

That line of thought made a lot of sense to Ryan. All they found as far as medication was some penicillin tablets, so they took those and moved on.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They came upon a used dealership that appeared to have focused on the sale of larger vehicles, as there were huge SUVs and even a row of Hummers.

"Those are real gas guzzlers and very hard to find parts for." Beecher indicated the row of Hummers. "So even if there was gas in the other vehicles, I don't think a Hummer would be a good choice."

"But they would be better about getting over terrain." Ryan found a certain appeal to taking a Hummer.

"It's not even an argument worth having unless there's enough gas in the vehicles to siphon. So let's check out the gas situation at least." Keller looked tired, but then they all were.

There was gas in several of the vehicles. They decided instead of going with a Hummer to go with a huge SUV. Ryan was disappointed, but he couldn't argue with the decision as it made sense. An SUV while still being a gas-guzzler would use a lot less gas than a Hummer, and if it broke down, it would be easier to find parts. Of course that was making the big assumption that the highways out here in the sticks wouldn't be blocked with vehicles of people fleeing the zombies only to turn into zombies themselves.

"You guys see that lodge, high up?" Miguel asked.

"Yeah. Don't tell me you're thinking that might be the place where we spend the winter." Ryan knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn't help it.

Miguel shrugged. "Why not? That winter had been mild and it was already Spring when the damn outbreak happened. So there probably was only a caretaker or two. So not a chance of there being too many bodies."

"I don't know Miguel. What if our SUV fails, or we run out of gas?" Mukada had just expressed two of the many doubts Ryan had.

Yet somehow Miguel managed to convince the others the lodge was worth checking out, so Ryan found himself behind the wheel of the SUV and heading toward the lodge. As he drove, he thought it was like they were on some kind of crazy road trip.

Ryan started humming the Talking Heads song _Road to Nowhere_. Keller laughed and began to sing. Soon Beecher and Mukada chimed in as well. It was obvious that Miguel wasn't familiar with the song, but even he soon picked up the chorus.

_We're on a road to nowhere_  
 _Come on inside_  
 _Takin' that ride to nowhere_  
 _We'll take that ride_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Maverick for beta reading. Any remaining mistakes are purely because of last minute changes by me. 
> 
> The lullaby Beecher sings during his conversation with Miguel is _Merry-Go-Round-Broke Down_ written in 1937 by Cliff Friend and Dave Franklin. It is best known as the theme tune for the Looney Tunes cartoon series produced by Warner Bros, but I did not think Ryan would (or Miguel) be familiar with the lyrics as only the music was used for the Looney Tunes cartoon series.
> 
> The song Ryan sings to Cyril, Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral, is from the episode _Cuts Like a Knife_ , and was popularized by Bing Crosby in 1944's _Going My Way._
> 
> And of course the lyrics at the close are by the Talking Heads from the song _Road to Nowhere_. Copyright 1985, Talking Heads.
> 
> All of the above are used without permission and are not intended to indicate support of this work in any way.


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